


The Cat

by prescellphone



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 17:17:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4885153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prescellphone/pseuds/prescellphone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon brings a cat home. Gaby falls in love instantly. </p>
<p>Music: Runaway by AURORA</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cat

**Author's Note:**

> Gin is based off my cat, Zena, who grew up with me from kindergarten until she passed away my sophomore year of high school. She was a small, plump black cat with the most perfect round face and the biggest green eyes. She's still the sweetest creature I've ever met in my life.
> 
> I wrote this at 3 am and I will not deny that I was crying. So, this is for you Zena. 4 years later and I still miss you like hell.

* * *

 

       Napoleon brought a cat back.

       He had been on a simple stakeout, a camera and sandwich given to him, and the request for pictures of their recent target. Gaby and Illya hung out in the room, a game of chess played (win for Illya) and a wrestling match ensued (win for Gaby, despite a split lip).

       “What is that?”

       Gaby had heard the door open and Illya’s deep voice from her spot in front of the mirror, a cold washcloth pressed to her bleeding lip. She stepped out to see Napoleon set a full-grown, skinny, smelly cat on Illya’s lap. The cat purred happily before Illya shoved it off.

       “It’s a cat, Peril, and she’s a girl. And I found it. Or she found me.”

       Gaby padded over to the sad looking creature. Crouching on her knees, she held a hand out, letting the cat sniff interestingly before it rubbed its dark face against her knuckles. Gaby smiled.

       “I like her. I’m calling her Gin.”

       Illya’s face was confused, “Gin? Like the drink?”

       “It’s our initials.” Napoleon answered, his hands undoing his tie.

       Illya shook his head at the cat and the name, “No, we are not keeping a cat. We don’t have food for it and we leave in two weeks anyway.”

       Gaby curled her arm around the cat, lifting Gin so she sat comfortably against her chest. Taking steps toward Illya, Gaby pushed Gin’s purring face close to Illya’s frown.  

       “Illya, have a heart. She’s too sweet. Come on,” Gaby kissed the top of Gin’s head, Gin mewed in response. Illya sighed in defeat. Gaby smiled happily before bounding into their small kitchen, a can of tuna pulled from the cabinet.

       Opening the can and placing it on the floor, Gaby squatted on her feet, her chest against her knees as she watched the little black cat eat.

       Napoleon fell onto the couch, a tired sigh escaping his lips. He and Illya watched Gaby as she stroked the cat’s grubby black fur, her eyes soft.

       “You know, if Gaby were a cat, I think she would look exactly like Gin.”

       Illya raised an eyebrow at Napoleon’s words. He had to agree. They were both small and dark, able to manipulate people in the room with a look. Letting a breath out, Illya knew this wasn’t going to end well.

 

       The next morning, Illya stomped into the bathroom where Gaby was brushing her teeth, carefully dodging her split lip.

       “Your cat took a shit in the middle of the room.”

       Gaby spat into the sink, “What did you expect? We don’t have a litter box yet.”

       “You better get one soon then, or the cat goes.”

       “Her name is Gin, Illya.” Gaby wiped her mouth before walking up to him. Her hand rested against his arm. “Don’t get too jealous. I’m sleeping with a cat, not a man.”

       Illya tensed as Gaby left him to contemplate her words.

                 

       Later that day, her and Napoleon returned with a litter box, a red collar, and cans of food. Gaby cuddled Gin close to her as she tightened the collar around her neck. Illya observed from across his chessboard. Gaby held up Gin for him to look at.

       “What do you think? Napoleon nearly bought one with the American flag all over it, but luckily I stopped him. We decided red would work best.”

       Gaby stood and placed the cat into Illya’s open hands.

       “Now, you’re the Red Peril and his cat, the Red Purril.”

       Illya didn’t look amused.

 

       For the next couple of days, Gin’s health improved considerably. Her face filled out and created a perfect black circle with bright green eyes. She was still small, but Napoleon had decided she was simply the runt of the litter. Gaby fell in love with her more after the words were spoken.

       Napoleon and Illya constantly caught her talking to Gin, her voice cooing and sweet.

       “You and I are the same. Gin and Gaby, little but feisty.”

       And feisty she was. Napoleon played with her often, a string from one of his shoes dragged across the floor for Gin to chase. She was well past kitten age, but she still moved like one. Illya frowned after realizing he was enjoying himself watching her leap and twist in the air.

       It was the sixth night with Gin, when Illya had woken up, his chest hot. He reached a hand up to find the source of the heat and a sleepy meow answered when his fingers brushed against black fur. His temper rose before a small paw stretched out and relaxed against his mouth. A deep purr vibrated his chest. He shifted slightly and Gin mewed in complaint. With her warm paw to his mouth, Illya remembered a similar situation when a drunk Gaby had grabbed his hand after he had tried to leave her. He sighed. He was getting too soft. Cradling Gin into his hand, Illya stood up and stepped over to Gaby’s bed. He placed Gin next to Gaby’s sleeping form and returned to his bed. Not even a full minute later, Gin was back, her body curling against his chest. Lying on his side, the cat didn’t really bother him in any way so Illya let his eyes close, Gin’s purrs easing him to sleep. Illya didn’t mention his first dreamless, truly recuperating night to the others when they awoke the next morning.

       For their last two days in the suite after completing the mission, Gin became a part of a routine for the trio. When Napoleon would make breakfast, Gin was given scraps of food. She sat on Illya’s lap when he played chess, Gaby always mentally taking a picture of the scene. Gin definitely preferred Gaby to the others, but Gin also knew that Napoleon always had food for her and would be willing to play at any moment. When it was naptime in the lazy afternoons, she cuddled up to Illya, the warmest out of the three. It was routine for them to be brushing their teeth and Gin walking between their legs, mewing for attention. It was normal to hear Gaby chatting casually in the kitchen while Illya and Napoleon sat in a separate room.

       On the day of their departure, Gaby didn’t speak a word. Gin was at her heels the entire morning, mewing for treats or cuddles. Napoleon finally had to leave the room, his heart heavy.

       Illya stood patiently next to the door, Gaby’s and his bags packed. Gaby and Gin were in the bedroom, the door half-closed.

       Illya could barely make out the murmurs from Gaby and after a couple minutes, her voice quieted. Illya heard the softest of sniffs and heavy breaths before he saw through the half-closed door, Gaby open the window and set the small cat onto the fire escape steps leading to the ground. She shut the window as Gin meowed. Gaby turned quickly, passing Illya silently, a red collar clutched in her hand.

       Napoleon sat with Gaby in the taxi, waiting for Illya. Her brown eyes stared out the window, her fingers twisting the collar around and around. They sat in silence for a few minutes before Napoleon huffed out a breath.

       “Where the hell is Illya?”

       Right as he spoke, Illya pulled open the door closest to Gaby. In his hands was Gin.

       Gaby gave a soft whimper when Illya placed the black mass on her lap. Her eyes were damp as she smiled tenderly at Illya. Illya’s smile was kind when he slid into the seat next to her. The car ride to the airport was quiet except for the purrs from Gin.

       In line for their flight, Illya took Gin from Gaby and placed her in an inner pocket of his jacket, zipping it up so her ears were covered. She fell asleep quickly against his warm chest.

       Mid-flight, Gaby went to the bathroom and Napoleon turned to Illya.

       “Waverly won’t approve.”

       Illya shrugged, “What Waverly doesn’t know, doesn’t hurt him.”

       Napoleon smirked. He was rubbing off too much on his comrades.

 


End file.
